Classic Poem

Tha. Tell me, Alcippus , is it day or night?
Al. The light you beare, shews you there is no light.
Tha. This is none: light was light [but] in her eyes,
In them it liv'd, put out with them it dies.
The sunne is quench't.
Al. Yet soone will shine againe.
Tha. Not possible! heavens light will ever plaine.
When her two living stars can sinke and die,
How can the sunne dreame immortality?
Al. Sir, if your [love] to mee, or mine to you,
Might give me priviledge, I faine would tell you,
That this too fixed love seemes rather doting.
Tha. [Tell me] Alcippus , didst thou ever love?
Al. I thinke sir never.
Tha. I thinke so too, nor canst know what love is.
Al. Yet this I know, love still is of the fairest,
Fond then the love, that loves the withered,
But madnesse seemes to dote upon the dead.
Tha. True, true, Alcippus , love is of the fairest,
And therefore never tyed unto the body:
Which if compared unto the mindes faire graces,
Seemes like the blocke that Lunaes face defaces;
But grounded on the mind, whose vertuous parts.
And living beauties are loves surest darts;
Which makes me now as freely love as ever:
Her vertue and my love decayeth never.
Seest thou this rocke, Alcippus ? tis a temple,
Olindaes temple! 'tis a sacred shrine,
Where vertue, beauty, and what ere['s] divine,
Are to be worshipt, prethee friend now leave me,
Here is an Altar, [and] I must sacrifice.
Al. If you will leave your griefe.
Tha. I will, I will:
Indeede I will; leave me: griefs ebbe growes lowe,
When private [t]ear[e]s th' eye-bankes overflow.
Al. I will retire, not leave him: well I feare,
When two such flood-streams meet, love and despaire.
Tha. Thou blessed Altar, take these worthlesse offrings,
The[se] corral's once more drown'd in brine of sorrow,
These pearly shells, which dayly shall bee fild
With my hearts water, through my eyes distild.
You corralls, whose fresh beauties are a shadow
Of her sweete blushes, tell her living graces,
Though now as you pluckt from their native places,
Are yet as you from your first seate remov'd,
Here fresher shining then when first I lov'd.
Thou rocke, that in thy blest armes doest infold her,
Witnes my heart as firme as you do[th] hold her.
And now goodnight thou set sunne beauties, never,
[Ah] never more to be seene, goodnight for ever.
Thou silver forehead and thou golden haire,
My best, my onely treasure when you were:
You snowy plaines, and you faire modest dies,
[You living stars w ch fooles wee called eyes]
[Once] living stars, but now two quenched lights,
Whose fall, heavens stars with feared ruine frights:
You eyebrowes, which like Rainbowes two appeare;
A miracle, Rainebowes on skie so cleare:
And all you unseene beauties softly rest,
Sleepe, quiet sleepe you in this stony chest.
I cannot long, I will not long be from you,
Shortly i'le come and in this rockie bed
Slumber with my Olinda , with Olinda
I'le sleepe my fill, meane time as neere as may be,
Here rest mine eyes, rest close by your Olinda .
Harke, harke; Arion , thou choice Musician ,
Sing mee a note that may awake pale death,
Such as may move deafe Hell, and Stygian Jove ,
Such as once Orpheus — — O I am idle, idle:
Sleep, sleep, mine eyes, this short releasement take you,
Sleepe, sleepe for ever; never more awake you.
Her face your object never more shall be,
Sleepe then, vaine eyes, why should you wish to see?

Olin. Thou worthiest daughter of the greatest light,
Most powerfull Circe , and tho[u] honour'd Glaucus ,
What dutie a poore fisher maid may give you,
In thankes, and vowes, and holy offerings,
Shall still be ready at your sacred altars.
Thalander , now to thee, what sacrifice?
What offerings may appease thy wronged love?
What have I but my selfe? ah worthlesse prize
Of such, so tryed, and so unmov'd a faith.
Ah, could I spend my body, weare my soule,
And then resume another soule and body,
And then consume that soule and body for thee,
All would not pay the use of halfe my debt.
How pale he lookes, how strangely alter'd!
Is he not dead? no, no, his pulse is quicke,
His heart is strong, and rising, in his heate,
Threatens with strokes, my churlish hand to beate:
Nature, how couldst in one so firmely tie
Perpetuall motion to fixt constancy?
How can this wonder fall in Notion,
A heart unmov'd, yet still in motion!
Alas he weepes, I hope his griefe and feares
Swimme fast away in those sad streaming teares.
Th'ast mourn'd enough, more justly may I weepe,
Leave me thy teares, rest thou and sweetely sleepe.
Tha. Morpheus , one more such dreame shall buy me.
Where, where art, Olinda ? whither, whither flyest thou?
Olin. Nay whither flies Thalander ? here's Olinda :
Tell mee why wak'd the substance thou eschewest,
Whose shadowe in a dreame thou gladly viewest.
Tha. Thou fairest shadow of a Nymph more faire,
Death yet I see cannot thy light impaire.
Olin. Thou dreamest still Thalander !
Tha. Ah too too true;
For such a sight wake shall I never viewe.
Olin. I live.
Tha. Would I were dead on that condition.
Olin. So would not I: beleeve me friend, I live.
Tha. Could I beleeve it [ Olinda ], I were happie.
Olin. If mee thou wilt not, trust thy sence, thy eyes.
Tha. They saw thee dead, how shall I trust my eie,
Which either now or then did vowch a lie?
Olin. Credit thy touch.
Tha. Then like a dreame thou'lt flie.
Olin. Thou flyest, thou art the shadow love not I:
Thalander , take this [hand], tis thine for ever,
Nothing but death, nor death this knot shall sever.

Al. How['s] this! have you [learnt your] mother Circes art
To raise the dead? wonder? [I] thinke shee lives.
Olin. What says Thalander ? does he yet beleeve mee?
Tha. If thou art dead, faire hand, how doest revive mee?
Olin. Thalander , heart and hand had now beene cold
But for Glaucilla ; she preventing Cosma ,
Temper'd the poysonous viall, changing death
For sleepe, so gave mee life, [&] thee [thy] love.
Tha. Alcippus , art thou there? thou art my freind
I prethee tell mee true, true Alcippus !
Doest thou not see Olinda ?
Al. I see her in your hand.
Tha. Art sure tis she? tell me, are wee alive?
Art sure we wake? are we not both mistaken?
If now I sleepe, O let me never waken.
Al. If you would surely know, trie if shee breathe.
Tha. Thy hand lives: doe thy lips live too Olinda ?
Alcippus , shee lives, [shee lives] and breathes, Alcippus :
And with that sugred brea[th] my heart [ha]th fir'd,
And life and love with thousand joyes inspir'd.
Ah my Olinda .
Olin. My deare, my deare Thalander .
Tha. Ist possible thou liv'st? ist sure I hold thee?
These happy armes shall never more unfold thee.
Olin. Tell mee, my love, canst thou such wrongs forgive mee?
Tha. My joy, my soule.
Olin. I never more will grieve [thee].
Canst thou forget my hate, my former blindnes?
If not, boldly revenge my rash unkindnes.
Pierce this vile heart my soules ungratefull center,
Pierce with thy dart where loves dart could not enter.
Tha. For thy defence my hand shall still attend thee,
My hand and heart, but never to offend thee:
The only penance that I enjoyne thee ever,
Is that wee live and love and joy together.
Thinke not my hand will sacriledge commit,
To breake this temple where all Graces sit.
Olin. True, true my love, tis vow'd a temple now,
Where ever shall be worshipt love and thou.
Al. You happie paire, since Cosma's spight's defeated,
And Mago [ es ] charmes, and death by love is cheated,
Why stand you here? tis time from hence to move:
This was the bedde of death, and not of love.
Death hath his part of night, love challengeth
The rest, love claimes the night as well as death.
Tha. What sayes my love?
Olin. W[ th ] my Thalander ever,
With thee to life or death, but from thee never.
Al. This halfe perswades mee to become a lover.
Where better could her love then here have neasted?
Or he his thoughts more daintily have feasted?

Tyr. Knowst thou Perindus [f]is[h]er, or Olinda ?
Al. I know them both sir.
Tyr. Live they yet and breathe?
Al. They live and now most happy.
Tyr. Thou mak'st me happy, in thy happy newes.
All thankes yee heavenly powers, when I forget
Your goodnesse in my childrens life and safety,
Let heaven forget both me and mine for ever.
Gryphus , backe to our shippe, and fetch mee thence
The vestments vowd to Neptune, and the chest,
Wherein I lockt my other offerings.
This rocke my heart prefers before a palace.
Fond men that have enough yet seeke for more,
I thought by traffique to encrease my store,
And striving to augment this carefull pelfe,
I lost my goods, my liberty, my selfe:
Taken by Persians on the Graecian seas,
So I my captaine and the King did please,
Soone was I loosed from my slavish band,
And straight preferd to have a large command,
There have I now consum'd these thrice five summers,
There might I have liv'd long in wealth and honour,
But ah thou little home, how in thy want
The world so spacious, yet seemes too too scant!
At my departure hence I left two infants,
Perindus and Olinda , the boy some eyght,
The girle but two yeeres old, their mother dead,
Who giving life t[o] th' girle, so tooke her death,
And left her owne, to give her infant breath.
Great Jove and Neptune , I will keepe my vowes,
Seeing my children live, two chosen bulls,
With mirtle crownd, and Oake leaves laid with gold,
Shall fall upon your altars.

Pas. You sacred vertues, truth and spotlesse fayth,
Where will you live, if not in such a Nymph?
Whose brest will you now seeke? what mansion?
Tyr. My trembling heart doth some great ill divine,
And tels me, every griefe and feare is mine.
Pas. Where now can unsuspected friendship rest,
If treachery possesse so faire a brest?
Tyr. Fishe[r] what newes?
Pas. Sir, little as concernes you.
Tyr. Pray heavens it doe not.
Pas. Your habit speakes a stranger,
And yet me thinkes, I somewh[ere] else have seene,
Some lineaments of that face: are you Tyrinthus ?
Tyr. The same.
Pas. O cruell heavens! could you finde
No other time, to give him backe his country?
If thus you give, happy whom you deny,
The greater good, the greater injury:
Thy onely daughter —
Tyr. Is dead.
Pas. I should have sayd so. Alas, he falls.
Tyrinthus , what, one blow thus strike thee
Under fortunes feete? How loth his life returnes!
Tyr. How well I had forgot my griefe,
And found my rest, with losse of restlesse life!
Thou much hast wrong'd me, fisher, 'tis no love,
Death from his just possession to remove:
Heavens, ye have thankes for both, yet one you slue,
Give backe halfe of m[y] thankes, take but your due:
I owe you nothing for Olinda , nothing.
Ah poore Olinda : I shall never more,
Never more see thee: thy father must lament thee,
Thy father, who in death should long prevent thee,
How long since died shee?
Pas. With the last sunne she fell.
Tyr. Sure heavens, ye mocke me: alas, what victory?
What triumph in an old mans misery?
When you have wonne, what conquest, that you slue
A wretch that hate[s] his life as much as you?
Pas. Sir, you forget your selfe: to warre with heaven,
Is no lesse fond, then dangerous.
Tyr. Tell me fisher, have you a child?
Pas. No sir.
Tyr. No marvell then
Thou blam'st my griefe, of which thou hast no sence:
First lose a child, then blame my patience.
Pas. If thou be griev'd, this is no way to ease it,
Sooner we anger heaven, then thus appease it.
Tyr. But when the heart such weight of sorrow beares,
It speakes from what it feeles, [not] what it feares.
Died she [by naturall], or by violent meanes?
Pas. Nature refus['d] an office so unnaturall.
Tyr. Hard fate, most fitly were you women made:
Since fate unmercifull, unmoved stands,
Well was lifes distaffe put in womens hands.
Kild by a man?
Pas. No man was so un[manly].
Tyr. A woman!
Pas. Yes.
Tyr. Fit instrument of women:
What was the weapon?
Pas. The cowards weapon, poyson.
Tyr. Canst tell the murderers name?
Pas. Her name Glaucilla :
A Nymph thought absolute, though now infected,
That heaven it selfe might sooner bee suspected.
Tyr. Tell me the circumstance.
Pas. 'Twill but more grieve you.
Tyr. True, but 'tis pitty in unhelpt distresse,
Condemned soules with all the weight to presse.
Pas. Olinda this last night complain'd to Cosma ,
(A Nymph which lately came from faire Messena )
That this Glaucillaes powerfull charmes had fir'd her,
And with Thalanders love now dead, inspir'd her
With such a feeling griefe, her griefe lamenting,
That she, to helpe so desperate love consenting,
Gave her a water which she oft did prove,
Would eyther quench or ease the paines of love,
Which Cosma swore, the other nere denyed.
Glaucilla chang'd, Olinda dranke and dyed.
Dicaeus hearing this —
Tyr. Lives then Dicaeus ?
Pas. As well and just as ever.
Tyr. His life doth somewhat mend
My childs sad death, after a child, a friend.
Pas. Dicaeus by this evidence condemnes her
By [t]h' law, from that high rocke to fall, and she
With smiling welcom'd death, and quietly
Steal'd to the rocke from whence shee must be cast.
Wonder so heavie guilt should flye so fast!
She led her leaders to that deepe descending,
The guilty drawes the guiltlesse to their ending:
And thus I left them, and with her just Dicaeus ,
To see her execution, who goes not from her,
Till from the rocke, in seas she leave her breath,
Die must she as she kild, water her crime and death.
Tyr. Ah [my Olinda !] had I seene thee yet
And clos'd thine eyes, alas my poore Olinda !
Pas. This griefe is vaine and can no more revive her,
You lose your teares.
Tyr. When that I hold most deare
Is ever lost, poore losse to lose a teare.
Pas. Your sonne st[ill l]ives, the good which heav'n bereaves you,
You quickly see, but see not what it leaves you.
Tyr. Art sure he lives?
Pas. Two houres since, sad I left him,
But safe.
Tyr. What chances happen in an houre?
By this he may be dead and buried.
But yet Perindus , if thou living be,
My halfe joy lives, my halfe joy dies in thee.

Can. Ah Scrocca , thou hast often heard me say, it would be my lucke to be devoured; and to tell thee true, I ever lear'd those Cyclops most; I never had any minde to them.
Scr. Why Cancrone , this is the slavery on't, had wee beene Master fishers, we should never have beene troubled to climbe up these Mountaines, wee [should have] beene cast to our old acquaintance the fish.
Tyr. Fisher, knowst thou these men?
Pas. I know the men, but not their meaning.
Can. That would never have angred me, thou knowst wee have fed upon fish this many yeere, and for us to have made them one merry meale, had beene but the signe of a thankefull nature, but ah those C[y]clops, clops, clops. Scrocca , I cannot digest them.
Scr. I feare they will 'gest us well enough.
Can. And yet I care not much if I were sure to bee eaten up by that Cyclops that ate up my grandsire, for then I might have some hope to see the good old man once againe before I die.
Scr. I care not whose hands I fall into, I'me sure hee shall have no sweete bitte of mee now; nothing grieves mee, but that having done but one good deede in all my life, I must die for that.
Nom. Thou foolish fisher, thinkst it good to stop
The course of justice, and breake her sword, the Law?
By Law thou liv'st: hee justly death deserves,
Who that destroyes, which him and his preserves.
Tyr. Are not these my old men, Scrocca and Cancrone ?
Scr. Well sir, you may say what you will, but if wee live by the Law, how commeth it to passe, that we must die by the Law?
Can. Mee thinks I see how busie [that] Rimronce will bee about me: he surely will be upon my backe, for my being upon his, a while a goe.
Scr. Nay Cancrone , thou diest for saving thy master too.
Tyr. Ay me, my sonne?
Can. I have no minde to climbe these Mountaines, I begin to bee short-winded already, I shall never hold out; had I thought it would have come to this, I would have bene vilely tempted to ha let my Master drowne quickly.
Scr. What, man? thou could'st never have done thy Master better service then to dye for him, nay, if Perindus live, I care not.
Tyr. Perindus ? I can hold no longer, friend, who is thy Master? why art thou manacled?
Scr. Mantled hither! marry this Priest hath mantled us for saving our Master Perindus .
Tyr. Ay me, my sonne.
Can. Uds fish, old Master, where have you beene this 20 yeeres and more?
Nom. Tyrinthus ! at such a time! sir, your arrivall
Is eyther very happy, or else most haplesse,
Eyther to see, or else prevent a danger.
Tyr. Priest, how is my Perindus ?
Nom. Doom'd to die.
Tyr. What is the cause?
Nom. His will.
Tyr. Who could perswade him?
Nom. She who most strove to hinder and disswade him.
Tyr. What had he done?
Nom. That which deserves all life and love.
Tyr. How fine the heavens powers can sorrowes frame!
The fates will play, and make my woe their game.
Where is he?
Can. Safe enough I warrant you, get's leave of the Priest, master, and wee'l goe fetch him.
Scr. We caught him out of the water.
Can. O, he had supt a bundance of salt porridge!
Scr. And brought him to the shippe where the mariners keepe him.
Tyr. Why stand I idle here! [To] the shore i'le fly,
And eyther with him live, or for him die.
Can. Master, master, master.
Pas. Ile follow him: nature can doe no lesse
Then eyther helpe, or pitty such distresse.
Can. Nay if you goe too, then farewell all,
Farewell ye rockes, farewell to thee O love,
You lovely rockes, you hard and rocky love.
Nay I shall turne swa[n]ne presently and sing my finall song.
Nom. I marvell what it is that stayes Dicaeus .
Can. Marry let him stay till I send for him, the Cyclops shall want their breakefast this month.
Nom. Here I must stay for him.

Cos. Faine would I know how my ginne thrives and prospers.
Olinda ['s] fast, and by my disamour
Hath quencht her love with death: if now Glaucilla
Be taken in that snare, then am I cunning:
Well may I prove a fisher, who have tooke
T[w]o maides so soone with one selfe baite and hooke.
Is not that Nomicus ? I shall learne of him.
Nomicus ?
Nom. Who Cosma ?
Cos. Why are these fishers bound?
Can. For you.
Cos. For mee?
Can. I for you, had not you cus'd Glaucilla , shee had not bene condemnd: if shee had not beene condemnd, Perindus would not have died for her: if he would not have died for her, he had not fallen from the rocke: had he not fallen from the rocke, we had not sav'd him: if wee had not sav'd him, wee had not beene bound: were wee not bound, wee would showe a faire payre of heeles.
Cos. What talks this foole? Perindus falne from the rocke!
Nom. Hast thou not heard then of Perindus faith and fall?
Cos. No, not a word; but faine would heare.
Nom. And shalt: my tongue is as ready as thy eare;
Meane while leade these away;
Soone as Dicaeus returnes, I'le overtake you.
Can. I prethee Mr Priest , let mee crave one favour; that I may have an Epitaph for mee in Neptunes church porch, Ile never goe farther.
Nom. Heres no time for Epitaphs , away.
Can. Nay, tis soone done, Ile trouble never a poet of them all, I have it already.

Cancrone valorous and kind, where art thou ,
Cancrone too kind and valorous to live?
Ingulft in Cyclops guts. Readers, why start you?
His life for his master he did freely give.
Ungratefull Sicelie that want'st his bones,
Instead of members keeping his memorie in stones.

Short and sweete, Mr Priest .
Scr. Cancrone , this is a land voyage, you must leade the way.
Can. But when wee saile downe the Cyclops throat, Ile give you the preeminence.
Nom. After that haplesse Nymph had heard her doome,
As shee was led t[o] th' rocke, i'th' middle way,
Perindus flying fast, calls out [to] stay:
And for he thought his feete too slowly bore him,
Before he came, he sent his voyce before [him].
Stay, stay, Dicaeus , th'art a man, I see,
And well mayst erre: heavens not more pure then she.
Yet since the doome is past, i'le pawne my breath,
And make your fact lesse hainous by my death:
I'le lose her life in me, and she shall spend
My life in her, so both shall better end.
Cos. This was no ill newes to the [guiltie] Nymph.
Nom. Yes, yes: then first she thought her selfe condemnd,
Death in him shee fear'd and in her selfe contemnd.
That law it selfe (says shee) should suffer death,
Which one condemnes, another punnisheth.
True, sayes Perindus , my life, my all's in thee,
When thou offendst, why shoul[d] th[ey] punish me?
But briefe to give their words in short contracted,
Was never part of love more lovely acted:
Both loath to live, and both contend to die,
Where onely death strove for the victory.
Meane time I could but weepe, nor I alone,
That two such loves should die, not live in one.
Cos. Their spotlesse fayth's a cristall, where I see
Too late my cancred hates deformity.
Nom. At length the law it selfe decides the strife,
That he with losse of his might buy her life.
Then and but then she wept, and to prevent him,
Downe fell shee with a deadly looke and eye,
Acting the prologue of his tragedy,
And wak'd againe, she 'gan to chide and rave,
And vowes to live no further then his grave;
While he with cheerfull steps the rocke ascending:
Fearelesse beholds his death, that steepe descending,
And boldly standing on the utmost browe,
Thus spake:
Poore life, I never knew thy worth till now,
How thou art over valewed to pay
Her life with thine, gold with base alcumy.
Cos. Just, just, you heavens, I have set a gin
For them, and now my selfe the first am in.
Nom. Then turning to his love, thus spake his last:
Farewell Glaucilla , live and in thy brest
As in a heaven my love and life shall rest:
Seeke not by death thy selfe from griefe to free,
Remember now Perindus lives in thee.
Cherish my heart, which in thy heart doth lye,
For whilst thou liv'st, Perindus cannot dye:
So leapt he lightly from the cloudy rocke.
Cos. Is hee then dead?
Nom. No: for the guilty sea[s]
With soft embraces wrapt his limbes [in ease];
It seemes the waves moov'd with Sympathy,
Would teach unhumane men humanity.
[And since they could not backe the doome recall]
Though they could not prevent, would ease his fall;
And not consenting to his pious death,
Restor'd him up againe to aire and breath:
Briefly, those two his servants not regarding
Dicaeus theatning voyce, and just awarding,
With him tooke up his guilt, and to a shippe
That rides in the haven safe convayd him, there
They left him now reviv'd, themselves were taken
And as the law commands, were doom'd to suffer
The death of slaves: both to be strongly bound,
And in those hils left to the greedy Cyclops :
And now the stay is onely in Dicaeus ,
At whose returne they suffer, just they dye,
Who love their master more then equity.
Cos. O lawlesse love! this [great, this] foule offence,
Which when it prosperd, pleasd my ravish't sence:
With what a d[ir]e aspect, what horrid sight,
Now done, it fils my soule with guilty fright,
Who ere thou art, if in thy spotlesse brest,
Thy undefiled thoughts doe quiet rest:
Wake them not, and let no blood-hound with thee dwell,
These murthering thoughts are like the mouth of hell,
Into whose yawning 'tis more easie never
To fall, then falne, to cease from falling ever.

Pas. Nomicus , thou now mayst let thy prisoners free,
Thalander to Olinda now reviv'd,
Perindus to Glaucilla are to be married,
And all are brought along with [mirth and] singing,
Hymen the shores, Hymen the ecchoes ringing.
Nomicus , seest thou this Nymph? ah couldst thou thinke
That treason, envy, murder, spight and hell,
All hell it selfe in such a heaven could dwell?
This is the knot of all these sorrowes; Cosma ,
If not for shame, why yet for spight or fashion,
For womans fashion let some teares bee spilt:
A sea of weeping will not wash thy guilt.
Nom. Great nature, that hast made a stone descry
Twixt meaner natures, checking baser metalls,
Which proudly counterfeit the purer gold,
Why hast thou left the soule of man no touch-stone,
To judge dissemblance, and descry proud vice,
Which with false colours seemes more vertuous
Then vertues selfe? like to some cunning workeman,
Who frames a shape in such a forme [and] stature,
That oft he excells by imitating nature.
He that should looke upon this Nymphs sweete eye,
Would vow't a temple sworne to purity.
Pas. If murder rest in such a lovely grace,
Here do I vow never to trust a face.
Shall I call backe your Prisoners?
Nom. Prethee doe:
Our nets, boates, oares, and hookes shall now goe play,
For heaven hath sworne to make this holyday.

Hymen, Hymen, come saf[r]on Hymen .
[That love] for ever constant stands,
Where hearts are tied before the hands,
Where faire vertue marries beauty,
And affection pleads for duty:
Hymen, Hymen, come saf[r]on Hymen.

Al. You honourd paire of fishers, see where your love,
So full of constant triall now hath brought you,
See, blessed soules, through so many teares,
Turnings, despaires, impossibilities,
Your love is now most safe arriv'd: Thalander ,
Is this the Nymph, whom heaven and angry hell,
Her cold desires, and colder death it selfe
Would have devoured from thy deserving love?
Thalander , these hands are thine, that heavenly face,
Those starrie eyes, those roses and that grace,
Those corrall lips, and that unknowne brest,
And all the hidden riches of the rest:
They all are thine, thine is the faire Olinda .
Yet thou, as thou wast wont, all sad and heavy.
Tha. Blame me not, friend: for yet I seeme forsaken
And doubt I sleepe, and feare still to be waken.

Cos. Now is the time of pardon. Ye happie maids,
Your love in spight of all tempestuous seas,
Is safe arriv'd, and harbors in his ease,
And all those stormes have got but this at last,
To sweeten present joyes with sorrowes past.
Blessed Olinda , thou hast got a love
Equall to heaven, and next to highest Jove .
Glaucilla , thy losse thou now dost full recover.
Ah you have found (too seldome found) a lover.
Then doe not her too rigorously reprove,
For loving those whom you yet better love.
Olin. For us, we judge not of your hard intent,
But reckon yo[u] joyes fatall instrument.
Dicae. Yet this her penance: Cosma , marke thy censure,
Whom most thou shouldest love, thou shalt love never
Dote thou on dotards, they shall hold thee ever:
The best and wisest never shall respect thee,
Thou onely fooles, fooles onely shall affect thee.
Loose now those prisoners; so forward to the temple.

Can. Ha brave Judge, now Mistris mine, I must confesse [you].
Cos. This charme begins to worke already,
I love this foole, and doate upon him more,
Then ever upon any man before:
Well, I must be content thus to be curst
And yet of lovers, fooles are not the worst.
For howsoever boyes doe hoote and flout them,
The best and wisest oft have fooles about them.
Can. I and many a fooles bable too, I warrant thee.
Sweete heart, shall we goe to bedde?
Cos. What, in the morning?
Can. Morning? tis night.
Cos. Thou art a foole indeede, seest not the sunne?
Can. Why that's a candle or the moone, I prethee let's goe to bed.
Cos. Content; no time [I count] unfit for play,
Love knowes no difference twixt night and day.
Can. Nay, all the play's done, gentles, you may goe,
I have another play within to doe.
Riddle me, Riddle me, what's that?

My play is worke enough; my worke is play ,
I see to worke i'th' night, and rest [i']th]' day:
Since then my play and worke is all but one,
Well may my play begin, now yours is done.